


Home for Hanukkah

by khazadqueen (ama)



Series: L'Chaim [2]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Established Relationship, F/F, F/M, Family, Gen, Hanukkah, Holidays, Jewish Character, Jewish Holidays, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-23
Updated: 2014-12-23
Packaged: 2018-03-03 02:46:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2835236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ama/pseuds/khazadqueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ori and Fili host their combined family for a very hectic Hanukkah celebration.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Home for Hanukkah

“This is a totally awesome year,” Fili announced the second he heard the door close behind Ori.

“Why is that?”

“Hanukkah ends tonight, we get one day’s break, and then Christmas starts; we almost _immediately_ get to transition from latkes and donuts to lo mein and pork fried rice. It’s the ultimate Jewish food week.”

“You said the same thing about Thanksgivingmukkah last year,” Ori reminded him. He hung his coat on the rack and carried the grocery bags to the kitchen, where Fili was halfway through shaving an enormous pile of potatoes. “And you can’t eat pork friend rice _two_ _days_ after a holiday, especially not when we’re going out to dinner with your uncle. The _rabbi_.”

“Hey, everything I cook for Thorin is kosher. He can’t complain about what _I_ eat.”

“Oh he absolutely can, and he will, and the two of you will start arguing and won’t stop all night.”

“Affectionate arguing,” Fili said with a wink.

Ori rolled his eyes and then stepped up close behind Fili to wrap his arms around his waist. He gave him a kiss on the cheek and even batted his eyelashes for good measure—subtly, of course.

“Please? All I want for Christmas is two days of no fighting.”

Fili sighed dramatically and kissed the tip of his nose.

“Fine. For you, I’ll play nice with my family, but if you expect a no-fighting rule to apply to your brothers as well, that’s _your_ responsibility. Did you buy wine?”

“Lots.”

“Oh, I knew there was a reason I loved you,” Fili teased.

He turned around, took Ori’s face in his hands, and gave him a long, slow kiss. It had been a busy week—Ori had been working for most of the holiday in addition to helping out at his school’s holiday concert, while unexpected union business had lengthened Fili’s hours, which were fairly long already. As a result, they hadn’t had much time to spend together. Ori leaned gratefully against him, and Fili could feel him smile against his lips.

“I’ve missed you,” Fili murmured, and Ori hummed happily.

“Your hands smell like potatoes—which is to say dirt,” he replied.

“God, you’re such a romantic.”

He was leaning in for another kiss when he heard the door open, and instead he sighed and dropped his forehead to Ori’s shoulder. Ori patted his back sympathetically and called out, “Hello, Kili.”

“Hey, Ori,” Kili said cheerfully as he tossed his coat on the couch. “Happy Hanukkah, Fili!”

“You know, Kili, I don’t really think you mean it, given that you’ve only said it about thirty-six times in the past seven days.”

Kili flashed an entirely unrepentant grin as Ori and Fili exited the kitchen. Kili was accompanied by a tall redheaded woman that Ori didn’t know, and he remembered with a start that Kili was bringing his new girlfriend for her first introduction to the family. He tried to keep his surprise from showing on his face—who else was going to be here? Thorin, Dwalin, Balin, Dis, Bala, Kili, the girlfriend whose name he should probably already remember, Nori, Dori, Oin, Gloin, Kami, Gimli, and Kim… _I should have bought more wine_ , he thought, heart sinking. But he stepped forward with a smile.

“Hello, I’m Ori. You must be—”

“Tauriel, hi,” she said with a smile, shaking his hand. “I’ve heard lots about you. And you’re Fili?” she confirmed, turning to him.

“That’s me,” he said. He went into for a hug, which startled Tauriel a bit, and Ori had to smile to himself. She would get used to that.

“Okay, we’re all introduced, yay—where are my latkes?” Kili demanded.

“I’m still making them, you ingrate. I’ve got about twenty people to cook for, you know.”

“We could help,” Tauriel offered cheerfully. Kili made a face and she shoved his arm playfully.

“That’d be wonderful,” Ori agreed. “What’s your specialty, Tauriel? Latkes or donuts? Mine’s the latter. Sometimes these lazy bums try and get store-bought, but my family _always_ makes fresh donuts.”

Tauriel glanced somewhat nervously at Kili as together, all four moved into the kitchen. Fili went back to his potatoes immediately, and Kili took a knife from the drawer and started dicing onions.

“This is my first Hanukkah, actually—I’m a recovering Catholic—so I don’t really have a specialty.”

“Oh,” Ori said, and this time he really did look surprised. “Well, we’ll try to make it a good one. Come on, I’ll show you how to make proper sufganiyot. Half with raspberry jelly and half with chocolate cream—they’re the best part of the holiday, if you ask me.”

He started pulling food out of the grocery bags and Tauriel joined him with a smile. She glanced over at Fili and Kili, who were—unsurprisingly—already elbowing each other and joking as they sliced potatoes and onions at a rapid-fire pace.

“Is that going to be weird?” she asked Ori in a low voice. “Me not being Jewish? Kili said it wouldn’t be, but I know his uncle is a rabbi…”

“It’s fine,” he assured her. “Kili’s dated non-Jews before and no one in their family really has a problem with it. I’m sorry if we looked a bit—taken aback. It’s just he hasn’t dated a goy since the last one tried to baptize him.”

“They did _what_?”

“Oh not that again, Ori,” Kili groaned. “Her family held a pool party and one of their good friends was a pastor. It was a joke. I think.”

“Not a very funny one,” Fili muttered.

“Well no, there’s a reason I’m not dating her anymore…”

They continued to chat as they began to compile huge piles of fried foods. The next pair to arrive were, unsurprisingly, Fili’s mothers, Dis and Bala. They both made a beeline for the kitchen, where Dis proceeded to stare in absolute bewilderment at her sons, who were cooking and not burning anything and looking perfectly respectable, and Bala greeted both Tauriel and Ori with enormous motherly hugs and kisses on the cheek. Ori adored both women—Dis was admired by everyone she met and Bala was the most motherly person he knew—and with their arrival the kitchen, which had been fairly busy before, because a bustle of activity.

“Are we eating in here?” Dis asked, glancing dubiously at their small kitchen table.

“No, Ma, we thought we’d leave the food in the kitchen and people could take their plates into the living room. Do you know when Thorin and Dwalin are coming? Dwalin wouldn’t give me a definite time.”

“Before the candles are lit, I’m sure,” she shrugged, but there was a wry edge of doubt in her voice.

“Oh sure, because that’s Thorin’s specialty—being on time,” Kili grinned.

“Don’t tease your uncle on a holiday,” Bala admonished. There was an enormous bulging canvas bag slung around her shoulders, and she set it on the counter and began drawing covered dishes from within it. “Ori, the donuts are pareve, right?”

“Yes, they are.”

“Good—and they look _delicious_ , by the way. I know you two are excited about hosting and I don’t mean to overstep, but I thought you might be a bit busy with the fried things so I brought over some more stuff for dinner…”

“ _Mom_ ,” Fili said, horrified when he saw the army of plates now occupying the table. “The whole point of us hosting was because we didn’t want you to put that much effort in—for one year, at least!”

“It wasn’t a lot of effort,” Bala insisted innocently. Dis rolled her eyes fondly and kissed Bala on the temple as she began to get plates from the cupboard. “It’s just a bit of brisket and some baked sweet potatoes, and I thought we could use more vegetables too so I’ve got green beans and corn, and an apple pie for dessert which I know _you_ won’t say no to—and while I was out I found some of those rolls you like, Ori, so I picked you up a package, too.”

“Oh you’re wonderful,” Ori gushed, but at just that moment there was a commotion at the door.

He opened it to find a whole crowd of people—both of his brothers and Fili’s uncle-in-law (was that the proper term?) and all his cousins had arrived at the same moment. There was a chaotic flurry of greetings and hugs and a few more plates of food being offered to Ori and then marched into the kitchen. Dori, Ori realized gratefully, had thought to bring more wine, along with two lumpy packages wrapped in blue paper.

“You _didn’t_ ,” Ori hissed, blushing just a bit. “Dori, I’m far too old for this, really—”

“I made you and Fili some new mittens, that’s all. Do you need any help in the kitchen?”

“No, I think we’re all set. Everyone’s brought over so much, and Fili and Kili are just finishing the latkes.”

“What about the sufganiyot?”

“No, no, Kili’s girlfriend Tauriel was helping me and we’re all set.”

“Are you sure you don’t—”

“Leave him alone, Dori,” Nori ordered crisply, clapping Ori on the shoulder. “Place looks nice, Ori. Happy Hanukkah.”

“Thanks. I’m sorry it’s a bit messy right now, we’ve just been so _busy_ …”

“It’s find,” Dori reassured him. “It’s _lovely_. Although…” He hesitated and then put on a cheery smile. “Oh never mine, we’ll talk about it later.”

“About what?” Ori asked distractedly, glancing at the window and then the clock nervously. He was still jumpy around Thorin—he couldn’t help it, really, and as this was the first family event he and Fili were hosting in their own home, he was desperately hoping Thorin would be here in time to actually enjoy it.

Dori hesitated again and then leaned forward, lowering his voice—not that he needed to, given that Tauriel was now being overwhelmed by the extremely loud greetings of five Durins at once.

“This whole moving in business. I like Fili, you know I do, but I’ve read that couples who move in together before they get married are twice as likely to get divorced, and—”

“ _Dori_ ,” both brothers said at the same time.

“They’re not going to get married,” Nori said impatiently.

“We haven’t even talked—” Ori protested, and then looked at Nori and said “I wouldn’t be that—we might—I don’t—oh _stop_ it, both of you. Fili, are the latkes ready? My brothers need food so they can stop talking,” he said, entering the packed kitchen and waving his hand dismissively at his brothers.

Fili took one look at him and handed the frying pan over to Kili so he could started fishing wine glasses out of the cupboard. He poured Ori a generous glass first and announced that everyone should start loading up on food while it was still hot. So far, the party was going quite well, Ori noted hopefully. Dori and Bala were happily complimenting each other on their knitting and cooking respectively, Tauriel had discovered she and Gimli had a mutual friend so she was more relaxed already, and Gloin had produced a large bag of gelt with an enthusiasm that looked to be thoroughly embarrassing to his daughter and wife.

Ori snatched a donut from the pile and followed the crowd out into the kitchen. He sat down on the couch, in the middle of the room, and beamed about at the crowd around him. Kili was sitting next to him, but he was leaning close and speaking to Tauriel, so instead he tried to sign a conversation with Oin, sitting in the arm chair on Ori’s other side. His grammar in ASL was rather dreadful, he knew, but Oin only smiled indulgently. After a few minutes, though, Oin chuckled and turned away, and Ori had hardly looked over before Fili was sliding onto the couch next to him. There was hardly room for Fili, Kili, Tauriel, and Ori to all fit on the chouch, but Fili managed it handily by draping himself half over Ori.

“We’d better light the menorah soon,” he commented. “Food’s going to be gone already, and I’m not surprised. I snuck a sufganiya earlier—it was amazing.”

“Of course it was, I made it,” Ori said sweetly, and Fili kissed him with a smile before he stood up.

At that very moment, there was a knock on the door, and Fili answered it to find Thorin and Dwalin.

“Sorry we’re late,” Dwalin said as he entered. “Three guesses why,” he said with a wink.

“Every year I say the synagogue isn’t going to have a full week of events and every year I’m overruled and have to scramble for volunteers,” Thorin said with a sigh. “But we’re here now—and I smell latkes.”

“I think we were just going to light the candles, actually,” Dis said, glancing at Fili for confirmation. “Thorin, do you want to do the honors?”

“Me? No,” Thorin said, a bit startled. “The only reason I usually do it is because we’ve been celebrating Hanukkah in my home for the past forty years. I thought Fili and Ori were going to take charge.”

This idea was met with a chorus of approval, and then someone decided it was a good idea to turn off the lights without warning and there was a good deal of shrieking and stepping on people’s feet. By the light of half a dozen phone-flashlights (Kili, of course, had been the one to take control of the light switch and refused to turn it back on again), Fili managed to find the match box. Ori placed the candles in the menorah, and Fili lit the shamash and waited. Together they lit each candle, and the room was quiet except for their voices reciting the blessings. Once or twice Ori stumbled over the words, but Fili’s voice, steady in his ear, never wavered.

Ori had always been much better at reading Hebrew than writing it; his family had rarely gone to shul when he was a child, so most of his Hebrew learning had been self-taught from books, except for the months leading up to his bar mitzvah. Fili, of course, had had a completely different experience. His ancestors had been rabbis for several generations, going back at least a hundred years. The death of Thorin and Dis’s parents when Thorin was still a teenager had put that lineage in jeopardy. He had gotten a job as a welder instead, a career that Fili and Kili followed him in, but he had always made sure to fund their education in Hebrew school and take them to shul every week. Eventually Thorin had gone back and earned his ordination, and while Fili had never felt compelled to do the same, Ori knew he was intensely proud of his uncle, no matter how much they might bicker.

Fili really did love this, Ori thought with a smile. They both did.

As they finished the blessing and fell silent, he heard their surrounding family members murmur “Amein,” including the quiet rumble of Thorin’s voice. Together, he and Fili set the shamash back in its place, but Fili didn’t let go of his hand, and Ori turned towards to him and stole a quick kiss. Kili decided that was the proper moment to turn the lights back on, so there was a sudden burst of light and sound as Gimli and Gloin led the group in Maoz Tzur.

“I’m going to get some food,” Fili said in his ear. “And more wine. How many latkes do you want? Two? Seven?”

“I love you,” Ori replied, and Fili grinned and kissed him again.

“I know. Happy Hanukkah, Ori.”


End file.
